Overnight Journey

The church was crowded when Jere and Ylfa pushed open the great doors. Conversation cut off instantly. Mages and knights alike scrambled back as if caught in the blast of an unseen force. Only a handful of soldiers stood their ground, faces tight with effort.

The priest alone remained steady in the center aisle. His throat bobbed as he forced out words.
“J-1. The time has come for you to prove your worth. Succeed, and you will be praised endlessly.”

Jere found the statement illogical. Endless praise was not only impractical - it was physically impossible. He remained silent, Ylfa beside him, her eyes fixed coldly on the priest.

The man swallowed.
“The time has come to take the fight to the Demon Lord himself. You will travel to meet the Yaffe Kingdom’s army in the southern plains beneath his castle. The King himself will brief you once you arrive. It is a long journey, so you must depart at once.”

He lifted his hand. Green light spilled from his palm, a spell flaring across the room. Jere’s HUD flickered, his GPS map updating automatically. Without a word, he and Ylfa turned and left. Behind them, the tension inside the church collapsed in a rush of ragged breathing.

Outside, neither noticed. Jere scanned the weather patterns and checked the estimated flight time: twenty-five hours of continuous travel, almost the full breadth of the continent. He glanced at Ylfa.
“You’ll need to bring food. We’ll be flying all day and night.”

She nodded without hesitation, unsurprised. As a Formy, she knew the distance. She had run it before - though it had taken two weeks with rest stops in scattered towns. She smiled faintly.
“Okay. I’ll pack something.”

As they walked back into the city, ignoring the stares trailing them, Jere looked ahead.
“What’s the Demon Lord like? How dangerous is he?”

Ylfa considered.
“He’s a powerful magic user, strong as a giant. He can use all magic types, but he specializes in dark magic - especially summoning.”

“What does he summon?”

“Usually skeletons. But if you give him too much time, he can call a dragon.”

Jere nodded once.
“Then we move quickly.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

He studied her face.
“You don’t mind this?”

Her expression hardened.
“He’d kill me if he got his hands on me. Think of this as revenge before it’s necessary.”

He accepted her reasoning with a silent nod as they reached the inn.

The common room erupted in commotion the moment they entered. Guests scrambled from their seats, chairs toppling in the rush to put distance between themselves and the pair. Jere ignored them, following Ylfa to the counter.

She leaned on the wood and smiled sweetly at the barkeeper.
“I need your best travel food.”

The man jerked in surprise, bobbing his head with frantic eagerness.
“Y-yes! Right away!”

He bolted into the kitchen, a crash and several curses following him. Moments later he reappeared with a thick sandwich stuffed with meat and vegetables.
“Will this do?”

Ylfa inspected it and gave a satisfied nod.
“Perfect. I’ll take six.”

The barkeeper nearly tripped turning back into the kitchen. Soon he returned, sweating and red-faced, arms full of food. He wrapped each sandwich in brown paper and tied them off with string, his hands trembling under Jere’s silent stare.

At last he set the final bundle down with a nervous flourish.
“There!”

Ylfa took three and passed the rest to Jere, smiling with disarming charm.
“Thank you. A pleasure doing business.”

The barkeeper only nodded, desperate to see them gone.

Outside, Jere pocketed four of the parcels while Ylfa carried the remaining two. He extended his wings in one smooth motion. Ylfa leapt up, arms tightening around his neck, sandwiches clutched tight.

With a single powerful beat and a burst of dust, the world fell away beneath them. They shot into the sky, a rolling thunderclap marking the beginning of their journey toward the Yaffe armies.

The day stretched on. Ylfa ate her first sandwich when the sun reached its peak, guessing it must be noon. Gradually she grew more comfortable with the altitude. Her grip around Jere’s neck loosened until she could sit back a little, her eyes roaming over the endless world below.

The landscape unfolded like a living map - hills melting into valleys, mountains giving way to deep ravines. Rivers gleamed like silver threads; forests swayed in thick, green patches; deserts rolled away in vast emptiness. She even glimpsed cities and villages, castles standing proud and the ordered lines of military encampments.

It all felt strange - strange to be so high, so detached from the life below. Almost like she was peering into someone else’s story, one she would never be part of.

Her thoughts wandered, and they inevitably turned to Jere. He hadn’t shifted once. Only the occasional shift of his wings and the faint rise and fall of his breathing reminded her he was alive. Smiling faintly, she laid her head on his shoulder, her mouth near his ear.

“Jere?”

“Mm?”

“Do you like flying?”

He was silent for a moment, as though running through a thousand checks before answering.
“Yeah. I do.”

She tilted her head.
“Why?”

Another pause, deeper this time.
“Because… look at it. You can’t not love this.”

She blinked at his choice of words.
“You know what love is?”

“I’ve been learning,” he admitted. “It takes time, but I’m beginning to understand it.”

Her lips curved into a smile he couldn’t see.
“You know, I could’ve helped you.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. But I know a lot about it.”

He frowned.
“What does that mean? To know a lot?”

Heat rushed to her cheeks.
“No, not like that!”

He shook his head.
“No, I mean it. What does that mean? To know a lot?”

“I… forget it.”

The rushing wind made their words half-snatches, yet somehow they managed.

“I would still like to know how you’d help me,” he pressed.

“I… I don’t think you’d understand.”

“Isn’t that why you’re teaching me? So I can understand? At present, all I know is that when you do certain things, my heart rate increases and I feel heat.”

Ylfa’s ears twitched sharply, and her voice came out edged with nerves.
“L-like what?”

“Embraces. Compliments. Saying thank you. Those seem to create the most consistent reaction.”

Her face flamed in the cold wind. She bit back a laugh and managed a small, flustered smile.
“Th… that’s love.”

“I’m aware,” he said simply. “But that’s the limit of my knowledge.”

“Well… it’s a slow thing,” she murmured. “You learn more as it goes.”

“You think so?”

“I’m pretty sure.”

“Okay then.”

She leaned back, her mind racing. He wasn’t dense - just utterly unknowing. He had never seen love, never understood it, never been taught how to recognize it. Yet at least he could feel it. That much was certain.

If he couldn’t, if he was truly just an empty machine, she might have leapt from his back right then and there. She couldn’t live her life clinging to an emotionless shell. But no - he was changing. She was starting to break through.

Hope warmed her chest. Settling against him once more, she closed her eyes and let the steady beat of his wings carry her forward.

Night fell, and the stars bloomed across the sky. Below them the world dissolved into shadow, a vast inky sea stretching in every direction. Ylfa had eaten another sandwich, saving the rest - one for breakfast, and the others for the journey back.

But now a new worry gnawed at her. If she drifted off up here, if her grip loosened even for a moment, she could slip. At this height, no wind magic would save her. Terminal velocity was far beyond what she could slow.

She pulled herself forward until her lips brushed close to Jere’s ear.
“How am I supposed to sleep like this?”

He considered for barely half a second.
“Do you want to sleep now?”

“If I can,” she admitted. “Though… the wind noise might keep me awake.”

He nodded once.
“Okay. Excuse me.”

Before she could ask what he meant, he gently pried her hands from around his neck and closed his own around them. The unexpected contact made her jump, but his grip was steady, reassuring.

“Now you can sleep,” he said simply. “As long as I’m holding you, you won’t fall.”

Her shock faded, replaced by warmth. She nodded softly.
“Okay. Thank you.”

He inclined his head, and she eased back a little, letting her tired muscles finally relax. Her head came to rest between his shoulder blades, the steady thrum of his heart and the rushing air weaving together into an unlikely lullaby.

Within minutes, her eyelids drooped, and she drifted off in the safety of his hold.

She woke the next morning shivering. The dawn air was icy at their altitude, thin and sharp in her lungs. For a heartbeat she almost forgot where she was - then Jere’s steady grip on her hands reminded her. Without it, she might’ve sat up too quickly and slipped. She pressed herself flat against his back again, sliding forward until she felt secure.

He guided her hands back around his neck and released her once she was holding on by herself.
“Thank you,” she murmured near his ear.

He gave a small nod, then reached into his pocket. When his hand came back out, it held a sandwich. He offered it wordlessly, but she hesitated, then whispered:
“Uhm… can you please feed it to me?”

Jere paused. She had managed fine yesterday. He couldn’t quite calculate the necessity - but he didn’t question her. With quiet efficiency, he unwrapped the sandwich and let the paper slip away in the wind.

He held it up for her, adjusting the angle after her first bite so she wouldn’t have to strain forward. Bite after bite, he moved it with mechanical precision, yet with a care that made the act feel almost gentle. When only the last piece remained, he held it steady between his fingers until her teeth closed on it. For the briefest instant, he felt her breath against his skin. Then both sandwich and warmth were gone.

She chewed and swallowed the final bite, then whispered again:
“Thank you.”

She eased back, settling herself for the long flight ahead, content to wait for their arrival.

The Yaffe army camp sprawled across the plains like a small city. Thousands upon thousands of tents stretched in every direction, housing an army tens of thousands strong. More soldiers and supplies arrived daily. This was no forward outpost - this was the staging ground for a decisive strike. For once, the war would not be fought in desperate defense. The King’s forces had carried the fight deep into enemy lands, preparing to march on the Demon Lord’s very doorstep.

Rumors whispered through the ranks - tales of a superweapon, and of demon sightings in the capital itself. The stories had been smothered, downplayed, drowned out by the presence of the King himself. His regal figure alone seemed to anchor the army’s morale. Truth or rumor, they would all know soon enough.

A sound split the camp before dawn could settle into calm. A deathly wail tore through the sky, swelling until every soldier froze in place. The cry grew louder and sharper, and then - like a hawk stooping on prey - the Angel of Death descended.

Jere struck the earth with force, wings folding as the ground seemed to shudder beneath him. Soldiers scattered, weapons raised and eyes wide as they glimpsed not one, but two demons standing at their camp’s heart. Jere tilted his head, faintly puzzled. They were here to fight demons, were they not? Yet the soldiers fled. He dismissed the thought and remained still.

From the center pavilion, the King emerged, a mage trailing at his heels. The royal robe billowed with each step, his golden crown catching the sun like a drawn blade. He stopped before them, voice steady and fearless - yet edged with something Jere could not quite place. Malice.

“J-1. It is good to see you here.”

Jere inclined his head.

The King motioned the mage forward. “Your mission is simple. Kill the Demon Lord. I do not care how you achieve it. But if you succeed…” His eyes flicked toward Ylfa. “…I may consider sparing that Formy you’ve chosen to drag along.”

Ylfa’s fists tightened until her knuckles whitened. She ground her teeth, loathing searing through her chest. She despised him even more than the priest, yet she held her tongue.

Jere remained impassive. He gave only a silent nod.

The mage’s hands glowed green, and Jere’s GPS shifted with new coordinates. The King’s voice cut like steel:
“The Demon Lord’s castle. We have confirmed he is there. Go now. Strike before he can rally. Return only when the deed is done.”

Jere turned without a word. Ylfa fell into step behind him, her glare still fixed on the King. His wings stretched wide, feathers catching the wind, and Ylfa wrapped her arms around his neck.

With a thunderclap of air and dust, they launched skyward - hurtling toward their greatest battle yet.